Song of the Beloved
by faithinthecharm
Summary: Imagine a chance to save your first love from death with just a touch. Wesley's first love returns. Can they save the world from the demons that ressurected her and the worlds populous from each other without losing their souls? Please R
1. Dream Girl

**Song of the Beloved**

**Chapter 1 **

**Dream girl**

The sound of chanting drifted across the night skies of Los Angeles, a city that doesn't sleep altogether, but on this occasion the staff of Angel Investigations had given the monster mashing for an evening and were getting some rest. Which in itself was unusual enough to give a whiff of the fates.

In an apartment across the city from the detective agency Wesley Wyndham- Price slept, and while he slept he dreamed.

In his dream he remembered one of the worst days of his life, a day he had never told any of the people who he spent his life with now. His feet crunched on the autumn leaves of fifteen years before, and he felt the butterflies in the stomach of his nineteen year old self as he walked towards what at the time he had considered an appointment with destiny.

His mind, his older conscious mind, tutted at how pathetic he had been when he was younger, but he remembered it as if it had all happened yesterday.

He talked to himself as he walked "Hi Elouise...Ellie...El...We've known each other for a while now...and... and...we've been friends for a while...and... I want you and I to...and... Ellie I love you...no, Price, no... Ellie I..."

The flashing lights interrupted his train of thought. The flashing lights that flashed from outside the home of the object of that train of thought.

His brain screamed, 'Oh my god Ell, what happened?' and suddenly he realized he was screaming it with his vocal cords as well.

He ran to the boundary of her home, desperate to see it was the burglary or a mistake or something other than what it looked like, but he knew he was wrong as he saw her face, her cold, pale, face, in the split second as the coroner drew up the zip on the black body bag.

As the realization that she was dead hit him, Wesley Wyndham-Price's nineteen year old dream self passed out, and fifteen years later Wesley Wyndham Price's conscious older self jerked sweating from his dream, sitting bolt upright in his bed, the image of the young girl, who he had been ready to pledge his equally young heart to, being zipped into a body bag, burned into his shrieking mind.

He rose from his bed and dragged on a robe, he had suffered with this dream/ memory less since he had met Angel and his other friends in LA, especially since Fred had been catapulted into their lives, but he knew he would not sleep for a while after it.

He wandered into his living room, a strange sound, maybe chanting, pushing at the edge of his now ragged consciousness, but slightly more worrying, in the dark he could make out a shape lying on his couch, and as far a he was aware there was nothing that he had left on his sofa that could throw this definitively human shape out of the darkness.


	2. Blast from the past

**Chapter 2**

**Blast from the Past**

Wesley stepped carefully towards the dark shape, painfully aware that the nearest weapon was on the other side of the room. The shape stirred and threw out an arm. 'Well' Wes thought 'that's one mark on the check list, it has arms, but then again it's not just humans who have arms.'

In one sudden movement he lunged sideways and lunged sideways, flicking the light switch. What he saw left him amazed.

He saw the face that he had seen in his dreams, his nightmares, waxy and dead, but alive, asleep, her chest rising and falling and her face bright with health and flushed with sleep.

"Ellie?"

"Hey, Wes! How are you?"

"I'm fine. How am I?! You...you're dead. So what are you doing here? Alive?"

"What you mean aside from being cold and really, really naked? I'm great!"

Suddenly she stopped talking as if what Wes had said hit home. Even as he was fumbling out of the robe and muttering muted apologies.

She took a deep breath and let it out again. She looked at Wesley and drew in and released another breath, a look of amazement crossing her face.

"Wes, I'm breathing...I...I really am alive aren't I?" Her brow creased as a more troublesome thought crossed her mind "Wes, why am I alive?"

"Honestly Ellie, I really don't know. You...you stay there. I have to get dressed and make some telephone calls."

Later at Angels Wolfram and Hart office "So, something woke you, you went into your living room and she was just there, asleep, naked on your couch?" Angel asked skeptically "She's someone you knew when you were younger and she died. Are we sure she's not a manifestation of the First?"

"No bloody way mate, me and Buffy, kicked the First's almost untouchable arse!"

Wesley and Angel did a unified eye roll at Spike before turning to contemplate the problem and ignoring him again.

"No, I handed her my bathrobe to cover herself and I felt her take hold of it. She didn't actually touch me but I saw her touch it, and the robe didn't drop through her fingers, so she's definitely solid. So I'm fairly sure, she's not the First."

Lorne shuffled threw the door in a powder blue silk bathrobe and fluffy slippers.

"Who's not the First? And what is the First?"

Angel turned "The First Evil, tried to turn the world to evil by killing Buffy and releasing pure evil into the world. It could take the form of any dead person it wanted or any person who had previously been dead but it couldn't take corporeal form, it couldn't become solid, touch anything."

Spike broke in "Buffy was really sarcastic to it, said it should be called the Taunter, and it realized these uber-vamp things and Buffy found a magic Axe that made all the Potentials into Slayers and then I closed the Hellmouth and saved the world with the amulet." Spike gabbled.

"OK breath there Sparky." Lorne cut in having somehow conjured a late night sea breeze from somewhere unseen, as he normally managed to in this place.

"You wouldn't have been able to if I hadn't bought you the amulet." Angel grumbled.

"Yeah but you still weren't the one who used it. You've never closed a Hellmouth, just tried to open one!" Spike returned in a whiny, petulant tone.

"Will you two grow up and focus on what's going on?" Wesley snapped.

"What is going on?" Gunn demanded as he wandered into the office rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"And what the hell is that chanting? It's even more annoying than the usual chanting is in this place."

"I don't care about the damn chanting!" Wesley ranted.

"But what if it's to do with the chanting?" wondered Angel

"Who would chant to bring a dead girl ton sleep, naked on English's couch?" Gunn asked "See I wouldn't have minded if they left a naked girl asleep on my couch, as long as she was hot. Is she hot?"

Wesley glared at Gunn.

"She is hot!" Gunn declared triumphantly.

"But, she wasn't who you were expecting was she?" Lorne asked gently.

"Well," a new voice chimed in "I may not be who he was expecting, but I have figured out why I'm here, and I'm sorry to tell you guys, but it's a big fat evil."


	3. The Song of

A/N OK probably this will sound a bit daft but I only just saw the last episode of Angel so I wasn't aware of certain circumstances. I'll do a supporting standalone at some point but I want to rattle a little further through the few fics I'm currently writing.'Cept hopefully not rattle, but hey ya know what I mean.

**Chapter 3**

**The Song of...**

"You know what this is?" Angel asked.

"I think so and if I'm right it terrifies me!"

"So, what is it?" Wesley demanded. Ellie glared at him, stung by his tone, the rage that was directed at her for some reason that she could not understand.

"I think what Wesley is trying to say in his angry, cold, clipped, English, way, Sugarpie, is are you the great, big evil, that caused all this to happen?" Lorne asked gently.

"No..." she had the good grace not to sound too indignant "...but I think I might be what it wants."

She spoke only to Lorne now. It was as if the only way she could keep talking was to pretend the green empath demon was the only one in the room.

"I wasn't killed by a god or a demon, not even a vampire. I didn't even kill myself. A person killed me. A man, and I barely even fought. He was a psychopathic person, but a person never the less. I think he might have been possessed, or maybe I hope her was, because then he was more than just a man, but also he seemed to feed on me, on my fear, on the act of killing itself. I wasn't his first victim I was his sixth. That's what he does you see, he moves to an area, kills six people, six women, and then he moves on, as far as I know he's been to at least five other areas."

"That's thirty women!" Gunn said softly.

"At least...Even worse, he has gained cult status now. Fools all of them, who want to be a part of it, to raise demons and revel in the slaughter, but would never dream of snapping a neck themselves. I don't know which is worse, him doing it or them condoning it. I think perhaps it doesn't really matter. Whichever, whoever, I need to stop them as soon as possible, before they pull the world apart searching for me."

She turned from the room and glanced over her shoulder. "I could do with some clothes that fit me, and not to be anti feminist be are perhaps a little more gender suitable, and maybe some shoes. That I can fight in."

Wes stared at her aghast, before turning down the corridor and jogging after her.

"A person? How? Who?"

"His name was Keith Nygent he was, is, psychopath who has killed many, too many, and, because I obeyed the rule." She was matter of fact.

"To the cost of your own life?!"

"Yes." Again with the matter of factness.

Ellie!"

She turned away from Wes ending the conversation "Angel. Shoes. And find me a witch, a demon anything, that can teleport."

"A teleporter?" Wesley called after her retreating back. She answered without turning around and didn't stop walking.

"I need one, so I can find the guy who took my life and too many others and his little cult, reverse his spell and then kill him enough that he never comes back."

With that she turned a corner and disappeared down one of the now eerily empty corridors of the Wolfram and Hart building.

"What? We have to stop this!"

"No." angel said softly "She'll stop it. For good."

"Angel. She couldn't kill him the first time, when he was alone and she was alive, what makes her, and you for that matter, when he has a following of loyal, insane, fanatics at his back?"

"Because I've been where she is. She's seen death, and she's not afraid to go there again and she died obeying their rules. She's has the power of the Slayer, but the eye of destiny has wandered. She's outside the rules now and she knows what she has to do to even the score, for herself and for all the others. You asked me why I think she can do this and why she thinks she can. It's because, whatever happens, she has no fear of what's to come."


	4. What is this song thingy anyway?

A/N I hope this answers any questions Ro,

**Chapter 4**

**What is this song thingy anyway?**

"You got her a teleporter?" Wesley demanded. Spike raised his hands in a lazy attempt at defense. "Hey, dead or not, I know who she was. She was a Slayer and word was she used to be good. And she was packing. Would you have argued with her, mate?"

Wesley hurmphed.

"What is this sing thingy anyway? She's alive even though she shouldn't be and you used to love her, so I'd think for you that would be a good thing, but instead you're real sore about it and I can't get why."

"The Song of the Beloved is supposed to be used specifically by one person to call to the soul of another. The soul of a dead first love, it calls it back onto the same plane as the spell caster, the plane of the living. It's not supposed to happen like this. It involves very complex magics, very specific, it calls on soul to one other person, then gives the caller twenty four hours to decide if this is really the person they want to be with. The deal is then sealed with any act of personal contact and the souls are bound together. Forever. Which is why I'm not touching her, because I didn't call her, the psychopath that killed her did, but she came to me and I don't know what could happen to both of our souls if I do touch her, or if I could handle getting close to her and losing her again. And you just gave her the demonic means to reach the nutcase who called her."

"But that's not why you're so angry is it?" Spike asked surprisingly gently.

"I...I tried everything...It took me ten years to come to terms with her death, to come to terms with losing something...someone...that was never really mine in the first place. And now... now she's not the one I want to get back, she's here and she's not even here because I called her, something just went wrong with someone else's spell."

"So you're mad because a psychopath managed to do what you couldn't do or that he called the wrong girl?"

"Yes...No...Both...I really don't know!" Wesley ran his hand through his hair and grinned ruefully at his misdirected rage.

"And what about this 'rule'?" Spike asked curiously.

"The rule that even the ultimate rule breaker Slayer adheres to!"

"Buffy." Spike said softly, smiling, but he said no more, so as to let Wesley continue with his story.

"You don't kill humans, but, she took it too far, she refused to even hurt him, and he took advantage of that. He snapped her neck. The last time I saw her, it was when the police putting her into a body bag. It's a sight I've never, ever, been able to let go of."

Gunn strode in, shaking a handful of files. "I got the information you wanted. Keith Nygent, born 1960, responsible for at least forty murders. He's gathered a sort of cult following and by sort of I mean large."

"How many people have the cult killed?" Wesley asked

"Surprisingly few actually. If you think about it in the terms of the amount of time it's been running, or the number of people involved."

"How many?" Wesley said shortly.

"In the ten years since the formation of the cult. Four. Every year, since the anniversary of your girls death."

"Oh Gods...it is...I forgot...How could I...?"

"I guess she will. I know I do." Spike chimed in.

"It seems lie these people put some serious effort into getting your sweetie pie back!" Gunn said.

"She's not...I loved her, loved her for a really long time, from when I first met her at a Watchers mixer, nearly twenty years ago, when I was seventeen, for God's sake, but she never loved me. She was always too good a Slayer, always about the mission. She believed so much in what she was, in preserving her identity, even I didn't find out she was the Slayer until about a month after she died. If you love someone you tell them the big important things like that. So, no she never loved me."

"Yes..." Angel had stepped into the room, in fact, had stepped in a while ago, on his soundless, stealthy feet, without stomping or yodelling as it was previously recommended he should.

"Yes, she did."


	5. Party Crashers

A/N I know it's been ages, my muse totally deserted me recently. Hope you still love me.

**Chapter Five**

**Party Crashers**

It's a sight, that proves to be, not as unusual as you'd think to see a teleporting demon hitting the ground in one of Britain's principle university cities, people just tend not to pay attention, because it very rarely works out to be a good move if they do.

Ellie and the demon hit the grass to the left of a large stone building, in a manner that would lead the casual observer, who would, of course not be watching as they had chosen to ignore the fact that there was anything going on at all, would surmise that the demon hadn't been at the teleporting game for long.

Ellie anticipated the bad landing and fell into a roll before they even hit the ground. She was on her feet and heading towards the building before the demon, a fairly decent guy, for a demon, called out to her.

"You can't go in there alone!"

"I have to, there's no one else here."

"They'll kill you!"

"Wouldn't be the first time. Now go..."

The poor guy didn't get far, dragged back to the gutted Wolfram and Hart offices by a hastily cast spell, and finding himself in a bit of a fix.

Wesley Wydham Price was not a man that Ellie would have recognized from her youth, toughened by years of losses, of doing what had to be done to keep himself and others alive, and now with Angel's recent revelation, he was as intent on finding her, as she was not to be found.

"Wes!" Angel lunged for the ex Watcher's hand just before it connected with the young demons jaw.

"We're not gonna get anywhere if you beat him unconscious!"

"I might feel better!"

He raised his fist again, the distraction not enough and the demon folded.

"Fine, I'll take you..."

Wesley snorted and resisted the urge to hit him anyway.

"If you're lying..."

"I'll let him kill you." Angel said softly.

"Fine, fine, just let me up, and hope we get there before your girly gets herself killed!"

A few moments later four new shapes appeared on the lawn, one of them landing with a good deal less grace than Eleanor had done a few moments before.

Wesley dragged himself up from the lawn, and grabbed the demon by the collar again.

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know."

"Wes!" Angel stopped the ex watcher from hitting the demon, something he really seemed to want to do at the moment. "It doesn't matter, she's been cut, I can smell her blood."

"You know it's her blood?"

"There's somethin' about Slayers' blood..." He shrugged apologetically "...Over there." He turned and loped towards a tall stone building.

The sound of a fairly riotous fight drifted into the air.

Spike snorted out a laugh. "She may have been cut, but, it sounds like your girl's holding her own, and that's good blood."

Angel shot Spike a black look, and walked into the building, flanked by Wesley and Spike, each with a weapon in hand, and surveyed the hall.

It was a mess, gibbering red robed acolytes littered the floor. Angel grabbed him by the shoulders. "Where's Nygent?"

The man stared blank eyed at the vampire "It was never supposed to work! No one was supposed to die, and no one was supposed to rise..."

Angel made a disgusted sound and dropped the gibbering man, standing as the blond vampire appeared at his side.

"You get anything?"

"They're a bunch of Dungeons and Dragons nerds, looking for a light show and to afraid to stand up when Nygent asked them to start finding him victims."

"So, our zombie slayer will be looking for head robe guy?"

"And Wesley, who has gone, will be looking for – zombie slayer?"

"So we're looking for angry English guy, robe guy, and zombie slayer?"

"Yeah!"

Spike and Angel looked around the room, then looked at each other.

"Split up?"

"Yeah"


	6. Do You Really Think

**Chapter Six**

**Do you really think...**

Ellie found Nygent with surprising ease, his acolytes having melted away , when they realised quite how badly they had been lied to, and when they remembered that if the victim wasn't tied up and helpless they were cowards.

Their leader had found them, bored, weak willed and easily seduced by a good promise and a flashy light show, a few had turned away when they had witnessed their first annual murders, still more wen asked to participate in them, and those that remained may have had the blood lust for the activity but not the spine, when the violence they begot bought danger to their doors.

She stole a spare robe from the twitching body of a fallen cultist and used it to steal close to her enemy. She watched him for a moment, with the clinical detachment of a true hunter assessing prey, a skill she had perfected while she was alive.

He had aged, she noted, somehow a little surprised, a little annoyed, she had not wanted to avenge herself on a twisted old man, but beggars can't be choosers, and really, the chance to avenge one's own death is not often given to the white hats, so she would take it while she could. She was also surprised at her own thoughts, had death changed her so much, she wondered, but as he turned and caught sight of her the time for musing was over.

"Ahh, the woman of my dreams!" He chimed as if she had kept him waiting for a blind date, his voice was as she remembered it, strange and dry like the hissing of snake coils. In spite of herself, as she heard the joy in that sinuous voice, she had to fight the urge to shudder.

Ellie dropped the hood and faced him.

"I would say the man of my nightmares, but unless I missed the course for it, the dead don't sleep much." She replied, her tone flat.

He let out a snorting laugh, and his contempt for her words, for her, radiated across the space between them.

"You are changed by the gift I gave you child, death has made you stronger, freed you from your chains. You should thank me!"

"How about I return the gift, free you from your chains? Will that be thanks enough?"

"It is thanks enough that the rituals have finally worked, that you are here, and that the fire in your eyes tell me you have taken a human life to get to me."

"More than one." She affirmed softly.

"Yet, even though they were working for me, it still pains you, for in your heart, you still have your humanity, and you are still the Slayer. Do you really think you can let all that go and kill me, or shall I get to relive my greatest rush over and over again?" His voice became loud, jubilant, he was sure as he heard her pain at killing the acolytes, echoed in her voice, he had won again.

"Do you really think, I consider you to be human any more?"


End file.
